Race #1 saw a close contest for second (behind Latane and Kate Peske who made the flatter water nearer shore pay) between Team Ballantine, racing with 2+ people on board (Jocelyn is 7+ months pregnant) and CW Estoff sailing with a new crew recruit from the Colby Sailing Team. That race came down to the last beat. The Ballantines were a little behind and to windward of CW on port tack. Both teams tacked onto starboard toward the middle of the course and the Ballantines gradually worked to windward on CW, eventually pinching him off and forcing him to tack away. Steve Kistler closed out a great race with a close 4th place finish.
In race #2, Bill Carnell and Lars Florio found more wind on the left side of the course and led around the first windward mark, but before closing the deal they were forced to abandon the race to make a prior shoreside commitment, leaving the Ballantines and CW to resume their duel, this time CW got the best of the Team Ballantine, with Ian Twinn and John Groesbeek following in 4th.
By the race #3 everyone was exhausted from several hours of chop-smashing, mainsheet-playing, trapeze-swinging heavy air. But little did they know that the fun was only about to begin. Shortly after rounding the first weather mark, the sky darkened, the wind picked up, and scrambled the fleet. As Latane tells it:
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The race began in somewhat lighter winds with only occasional trapezing. Beginning a trend that would continue for the rest of the weekend, the fleet seemed to be closing the gap on 727. Ian and John lead the race around the first windward mark with 727 in second. Low level rain clouds had been on the southern/windward horizon for most of the day, with rain cells moving from south southwest to north northwest. Halfway up the beat, Kate and Latane decided that if the darkening clouds enveloped the power lines crossing the river about 2 miles to windward, they would abandon the race and head for cover. The lead boat of Twinn and Groesbeek assumed the starboard jibe around the windward mark. Kate and Latane in second jibe-set onto port, and assumed a down-wind course heading conveniently halfway between the leeward mark and the marina. After a few minutes the breeze felt a little cooler, and a little stronger on the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder back to windward and did a double-take. The sky had gone black and the distant powerlines had disappeared. There was a thin white line on the horizon that looked like smoke on the water marking the edge of the rain squall that was now visibly getting bigger and closer. Trying not to betray any panic in my voice I told Kate to stow the pole immediately (or words to that effect). By the time the pole was down the wind had gone from 7 to 10 and was increasing by the second. With the Lightning fleet halfway down the course, and the other two Hamptons still plugging up wind to the mark, we were the closest to the marina, and my instinct was to keep sailing for the shore. If we did not get headed too much we might even make it into the marina behind the breakwater. Dropping sails (and assuming fetal position up under the bow) also seemed like an attractive option, but with 40 sailboats and 3 crash boats, minimizing the overall number of rescues tipped the balance in favor of trying to get off the water at all cost. It felt a little like a scene from Jurassic Park, and we were about to start a doomed attempt to outrun the T-Rex. My rational side did not think we would could outrun the surging wall of wind that was visibly frothing the surface of the river, but I reasoned that the closer we were to the marina before we were smacked-down the more likely we were to get located and rescued after the storm passed. The wind kept going up and the rain started pelting down/sideways and the visibility went down to about 100 yards where we were on the edge. Soon we were flying across the water and rapidly closing the gap on the safety of the marina breakwater. The water remained suprisingly smooth, with the wind now blowing the crests off the waves. 727 was flying across the water on a beam reach with the jib drawing strong, board half-down, boom eased to the shroud and top 1/3rd of the main twisted off and flogging. The plywood hull was smacking the waves so hard and fast it sounded like a jackhammer on concrete echoing out of the bow. I wedged one foot under the windward floorboard and the other on the against the trunk and held the tiller so that a sheared extension universal wouldn't end the ride. A jet of water shot straight up in the air out of the back of the centerboard trunk. We did not know where the wind would go next, and how strong it would get so Kate stayed on the side-deck, but was hooked into the trapeze for emergency hiking. The marina was clear in the sunlight ahead and the fleet of 40 boats disappeared behind us in the darkness. Ian and John had made it onto starboard about 50 yards behind us and were hanging on at Mach 5 as well. In 25-30 knots of wind and relatively smooth water we rocketing along at somewhere between 15 and 20 knots over the water. Ian and 727 eventually made it into the marina, where Tom and Jocelyn [who had providently decided that the first two races were enough for expectant parents and were already ashore -TTB] greeted us with trailers and ready hands. It was hard just landing the boats in that wind, and I had initially just expected to get the boat to the beach and hold onto it in knee deep water until the squally had past. 5 or 6 lightnings also made it in with us. Everyone else just disappeared in the storm. By the time 727 and 706 were out of the water the squall was moving on and the visibility was increasing. Tom Ballantine went to commandeer a fisherman's powerboat and I ran to grab life jackets for the inevitable salvage work that lay ahead. Tom found a nice 23 foot Boston Whaler, and convinced the owner to leave his wife on the dock and take us out. Halfway out I asked the boat owner if he had any long ropes for towing and he looked at me confused and said "I thought I was just dropping you sailor-boys off out here." I looked at Tom perplexed about the deal he had struck and he just shrugged and grinned, it was the best we could do and at least we had life jackets to bob around in. [Any ole boat in a storm, the powerboater had taken some convincing to even let us on board--I figured if we saw someone who was in serious trouble, we'd have convinced the guy to lend a hand and the only other option was a pretty gamey looking cabin cruiser half off its trailer on the boat ramp. -TTB] We spotted three white lightnings on their side all of which initially looked like CW's #638. After a few minutes we spotted the first of our people. It was CW and he was right-side up and sailing towards the marina, but his mast was bent forward in a long even crescent moon bend right through the middle of the mast. We would later learn that he had been on starboard jibe when the squall hit and just tried to run out the storm on a run. On starboard, he ran more out towards the middle of the river away from the lee peninsula where the wind was likely stronger than we had seen. On the run, the main stayed loaded rather than partially flogged. Ultimately his mast inverted with a 45 degree bend that began below the spreaders. The spreader adjusters on both sides sheared after the mast inverted. Even with the mast bent forward at a 45, the mast stayed up, and he kept running downwind, somewhat pleased to know that his mast was now depowered so effectively. Later, he sensed a lull and tried to harden up and tack back towards the marina on the west side of the river. With bent mast and heavy air, the tack was doomed and he capsized. By the time we spotted him his boat was back on her feet and limping for shore in the calm after the storm. Only Kistler was now unaccounted for. After the windward mark, Kistler's 600 was also on starboard and headed away from the marina shore. 600 may have seen the worst of the storm. Steve rode it out turned sideways to the wind with sails full flogging with just enough headway to maintain steerage. Eventually, he got his main down, but had raised it again by the time we spotted him sailing home after the storm. In fact, he towed a dismasted Lightning, and her exhausted paddlers, the last 100 yards to shore. Afterwards, at the Heinekein keg, Steve was the only sailor asking: "how about that hail?" |
Several hours later, the RC declared the race abandoned by megaphone shoreside. Many of the Hamptons gathered for pizza and beer at Tom and Jocelyn's where Laura Kistler celebrated her release from bed-rest and the fact that she had decided not to go sailing with Steve that afternoon. Overall, the Hamptons fared remarkably well.
Sunday was another beautiful heavy-air day. The RC was remarkably efficient and was able to bang out three races, making up for the blown-out race on Saturday. Again, Montague showed off his mahogany transom, but the racing was closer this time around, with 727 battling it out with Bill Carnell and Lars in race #3. Carnell and Florio got second in the last race to make a close 4th overall, even having missed two races on Saturday.
The battle for second overall came down to the last race between Ian and John on 706 and Ballantine and new-to-racing crew Josh Allen. Josh picked up key skills quickly and 684 nearly made it out of last in race #3 and #4. Unbeknownst to Ian and Tom, that set up the following scoring situation. If 706 beat 684 in race #5, their scores would be tied and 706 would be victorious based on the tie-breaker. On the last leeward leg of the race 706, 684 and 723 (Carnell & Florio) were in close contention for second. Carnell and Ballantine sailed out into the river on starboard, with Carnell just trailing. As Josh struggled with 684's awkward pole, 723 loomed behind. After some slightly contentious luffing--Ballantine resfusing to surrender despite Bill's evident edge on boat speed--723 and 684 parted ways, with 684 headed back to the middle of the course.
All were very close at the leeward gate. 684 pursued 727 inshore, while 723 and 706 headed for the stronger breeze on the left side. An exciting moment came twenty minutes later. Latane crossed first. Tom approached the line on starboard some distance behind him, on a course that intersected that of 723 and 706 coming in on port. Bill in 723 crossed ahead to finish second, but 706 was forced to duck. Ballantine tried to tack quickly on top of Ian, but wasn't quite able to make it in time. Nevertheless, hope sprang eternal and he called for room at the finish mark. Ian looked back, saw the lack of overlap and pointed that lack out to Tom, who accepted his fate.
Now both boats were steaming for the line with Ian just ahead and a little to leeward. As Tom came up to the pin end, he mumbled something about hanging on to Josh-first-time-on-a-Hampton-Allen and shot the line. A second too late, Ian followed suit and his crew, John Groesbeek, went over the side. He was wearing a wetsuit and was quickly rescued, so all was well. Sailing home, neither of us knew how the finish had turned out or that the difference between 2d and 3d in the regatta turned on the last turn of the last race. An exciting end to an exciting to an exciting weekend.
Thanks go out to Lightning Fleet 50, to the RC, Bob Montague (who ran a crash boat), the Carnell's (who provided a crash boat), and to the Virginia Park System (which recently got the marina back in shape after Isabel's wrath).
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